Long Highchair Poems
Long Highchair Poems. Below are the most popular long Highchair by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Highchair poems by poem length and keyword.
Fields and fields of corn on the cob
As far as the eye can see
Sweet little niblets of yellow perfection
Tempting little old me
Must admit to this addiction of mine
Coz hiding it makes no sense
My skin has taken on a bright yellow hue
“Corny” jokes I always dispense
For breakfast, lunch and even dinner
It's corn, and corn, and more corn
Thinking of joining “Niblets Anonymous”
Been addicted since I was born
Cute as a button sitting in my highchair
Corn mush all over my face
No telling if I was animal or vegetable
You couldn't even tell my race
Mom cleaned me up and there I was
Just as sweet as I could be
Mom called me her “Little Corn Niblet”
To my friends, I was “Cornpoke Pete”!
Music came out of my fingers
made me dance all over the wall
My parents were askance
For I was a newborn from a small town
I was tapping my fingers on my highchair tray at one
Loving the feeling of playing my own trombone or drum
I was a musician, so they called me Table Top Joe
It was not even my name, but that’s how I evolved
Kindergarten teacher was Miss Alyson, who was pretty and quick
She let my fingers play the piano as a reward if I did my work
Work in kindergarten? That is crazy I told myself. And it was.
Every day at school was a waste of time.
How did it get me closer to fame?
Fortune?
My destiny?
I played the game as long as I could
Then I ran away to become the real me.
A musician who drums on everything he can reach.
Tabletop Joe!
Fields and fields of corn on the cob
As far as the eye can see
Sweet little niblets of yellow perfection
Tempting little old me
Must admit to this addiction of mine
Coz hiding it makes no sense
My skin's taken on a bright yellow hue
“Corny” jokes I always dispense
For breakfast, lunch and even dinner
It's corn, and corn, and more corn
Thinking of joining “Niblets Anonymous”
Been addicted since I was born
Cute as a button sitting in my highchair
Corn mush all over my face
No telling if I was animal or vegetable
You couldn't even tell my race
Mom cleaned me up and there I was
As sweet as I could be
Mom called me her “Little Corn Niblet”
To my friends, I was “Cornpoke Pete”!
©Jack Ellison 2012
THE SUNFLOWERS- With the morning sun on the rise, they slowly lift their heads and their petals of yellowish-gold spread smiling with the sun.
THE HOUSE- As a passer-by, sitting atop a hill all trim and newly touched with a brush, it's white and blue shutters swing to the light breeze as quiet sets the mood.
THE LAMP- On low-glow, dimness surrounds the light beige drapes and the leaves from the long-stemmed plant sag downward as if fireworks were falling.
THE HIGHCHAIR- The tray all covered with remnants of chocolate pudding and cookie crumbs sits empty and all alone in the corner...mom holds baby boy on her shoulder where he rests his head and sleeps
THE DOG- Sitting on the edge of a bay window quietly looking at the rain dropping, she sits with her eyes drooped and her head resting on her front paws.
THE SUN- As it rounds the world, hues of light and dark blues set the tones of dusk and dawn...birds, bees and butterfly's paint the skies.
THE OCEAN- A shoreline of white caps ripple while calm waters beyond views sailboats, seagulls, and spotty white fluffy clouds in the horizon
THE MOON- Surrounded by pinholes, the huge white hole in the sky brightens the paths through the forests and alleys where lovers hold hands and stare at falling stars
THE MOUNTAINS- Above the lake, their shadows mirror. Colors of brown, orange, red and green is center staged around the log cabin off to the left, to the right...a man and his son fishing from the dock.
Form:
in old school days
i used to eat
paste
that we were
supposed to
use for art
works such
as a stick
figured
snow man
who's hands
were made of
sticks but i
got stuck on
eating the stuff
but can't say it was
like purposely
putting
a tube of glue
in a paper bag
sniffing until
passing out
for in simply
taking a taste
while copying
Picasso
was
truly Proustian
for my mind
took not
by smell yet
was propelled
to a time
when i was ill
and Mum was
making oatmeal
taking a taste
spoon fed
takes
me back
to an earlier
time when i was
in a highchair
unaware if all
but being
fed pablum
by someone
so i suppose
this wasn't
a mind opening
experience of
remembrance
of things
past
Form:
Write Eleven Beautiful Lines Poetry Contest
Constance La France
"A rush of excitement fills the air as their maiden voyage comes to a climax."
By author
Up in the sky, baby seagulls leave the crib
Taking virgin wings to the blue skies and puffs of clouds
The siblings' baby steps come without a rattle
Only a blanket of wind at their backs
As they glide from their playbox in search of silver
Below, they see their mother lode
A pacifier, a fishermen's boat netting jumping sardines
Together, the seagulls fall from their highchair
And dive towards their food chain
That they'll hang on their dinner table with all the silverware
With their catches, the seagulls return home with their calling
The town, ripped up like a carpet—flung to the side like a broken leg. In its scar the soldiers marched. Chanted for a ruler who ate in his highchair while he penned in their death warrants. Overhead birds of death floated, their naked beaks dying for flesh. It’s cold, so cold a little brown mole crawled from its bungalow and died right in the snow, its little tracks a treasure map to its demise. Everything around war takes on the property of destruction. The little girl who survived and who’s lying in the basement of her home doesn’t know the rubble has trapped her into a coffin. A dog sniffs along the broken avenue and swallows an ear. The ear of a praying man who was blessing his family’s food when boom! From tailfeather to beak a robin is infected by gun smoke. Black eyes, black beak, black heart. It’s all dark on the northern front and the soldiers march from bleakness to doom. Happy with this overtaking that is to lead to their severed legs and exploded hearts. Their red, white, and blue tucked triangle and mother’s bitter tears. If they knew that, the chanting would be replaced by sobs and their marching knees would find the dirt. Along the broken avenue, they’d weep to the grey, smoky sky.
I am taking care of my 11-month-old grandson. I love every-minute and he's stolen my heart. I've seen the growth within him with lots of love and affection he gets. He is crawling and into everything. I never realized how many things needed for this small infant.
Car seat or they won't let you leave the hospital without one
As many diapers as you think you'll need
Diaper bag that handles everything you need on the go
Baby changing table, diaper change as quick as you can they get pretty squirmy
Wipes for their sensitive skin
Diaper rash ointment relieves baby's painful rash
Grocery store plastic bags, fantastic for disposing all those stinky diapers
Baby bath tub, there is such a sweet smell of a freshly bathed baby
No tears baby soap
Washcloths
Baby bath towels hooded or non-hooded
Sleepers with buttons and snaps, they are so much easier to put on
Swaddle or baby blankets, wrapped snug arms from wiggling free
Nail clippers, he loves scratching the back of my arms and face
Baby brush
Baby comb
Thermometer
Baby clothes, they'll grow out of it so fast
Socks
Shoes
Bottles
Formula or milk for hungry
Bottle brush
Baby teething ring to relieve sore gums
Baby binkis it tends to calm them when they are not feeding
Baby dishes
Baby spoon
Variety of baby food and cereal
Juices
Highchair
Bibs
A rocking chair to rock and kiss them good night.
Bassinet or Crib
Crib sheets
Toys, age appropriate for learning
Baby walker, fantastic to keep them busy for a little while
Stroller, a must when you walk or shop
Baby proof your whole house, once they start crawling, they are into everything
Camera, time goes so fast you'll want to remember it all.
7/29/2019
A dream worth living for
Born in the image of an unspoiled soul
Newborn stretches it's small limbs
Hungers, cries, crawls, and walks
A new peaceful dawn, a new world unfurled
5/14/2019
Poetry Contest: Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
A man and woman meet a pup.
They look down and he looks up.
It’s love at first sight, they all feel the same.
Now it’s time to think of a name.
Two weeks later, a brand new home.
Things to chew and space to roam
And after running here and there,
He lays down under the garden chair.
A year goes by and baby makes four.
Little puppy’s not so sure.
So while they tend to baby boy,
Jealous doggy steals a toy.
A truce is called and friendship starts.
A meeting of two gentle hearts.
Boy in highchair, dog underneath
Stealing food despite no teeth.
Walks with buggies in the park,
Round the houses in the dark
School run, seafront, through the wood
‘Stop that barking, please be good’
Moving on and moving home
Two kindred dodgers of the comb
Boy walks dog. Dog walks boy
Running back and full of joy.
The boy grows up, the dog gets slow
And even though it’s hard to know
It’s like he says ‘This time’s for you,
You go on, I can’t come too’
Now hearts are broke but one’s at rest
The furry boy we loved the best
Bring back the bark and the claws on the ground
The absence of dog is an awful sound